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Joel checked in with the control room, and happy that another Dungeon Monitor had been assigned to cover him, he went to find Trinity and check on the guest sub.
He found her sitting in the corner of a comfortable chaise, clutching a bottle of water in one hand, the other hand in a death grip on the subbie blanket which was wrapped tightly around her. Trinity sat next to her, stroking a soothing hand up and down the girl's back, and Joel squatted down in front of her so he didn't appear so intimidating.
"Hey there, Sophie." He softened his voice and used her name to put her at ease.
"I'm sorry." Sophie sniffled, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes.
Joel pressed a gentle finger against her lips. "None of this was your fault, so there's no need for you to apologise."
She raised her tear streaked face a little higher. "Harry said it wouldn't hurt, maybe I should have just tried a little harder."
"No!" Joel admonished gently. "You did exactly the right thing. If you're not comfortable in a scene, you should always safe word." He tipped her chin so she faced him properly. "Just because you are a submissive, doesn't mean you're a doormat, Sophie. You are the one who's in control of any scene. It's important that you remember that, and if you ever feel that isn't the case, then you shouldn't continue. Understand?" Sophie nodded miserably and lowered her gaze, and Joel released his hold and got to his feet.
"I do think it's important that you take the club's submissive course, though, Sophie. If you're serious about continuing this lifestyle."
She looked up sharply at that. "But I can't afford it!" she blurted in a panic.
Joel smiled. "Don't worry; we have a special scheme in place where you can help out at the bar or with the cleaning crews in exchange for the course fees and a subsidised membership. There are other options, too. I'll put your name forward."
Sophie jumped up and launched herself at him, and Joel took a step back in surprise before catching her around the waist and steadying them both.
"Oh, thank you so much!" she mumbled into his neck.
Peeling her away from him, Joel patted the girl's cheek. She couldn't be more than twenty, he thought, now that he got a good look at her.
"Thank me by finding yourself a more experienced Dom," he replied and made his way to the door, where Logan was waiting.
"So, why'd you stop me from booting his ass?" Joel scowled as soon as they were out of earshot.
"You know why!" Logan rolled his eyes as they walked back towards the arena stages. "Booting him was just a knee-jerk reaction. We keep him here; we keep an eye on him. We make sure that he gets educated sufficiently and that he doesn't pull any more stunts like that."
"Yeah, yeah!" Joel muttered begrudgingly, raising a hand in acknowledgement. "If we throw him out instead of reforming him, then we just release him onto some other poor, unsuspecting individual or club for a repeat performance."
"You're just sore because I stole your fire." Logan winked as he peeled off towards the bar while Joel resumed his DM duties.
Safe, sane and consensual. They weren't just a catchphrase, they were the entire ethos of Club Risqué, one which Joel was proud to uphold and that fed into his natural desire for control. He got off on knowing that he was in command of everything around him. Whatever was going on in this place, he had the ability to stop it. If anyone stepped out of line, he had the authority to deal with them; if any undesirables wanted to gain membership, he had the right to refuse them. If any member broke the rules, he had the power to expel them, both literally and figuratively.
It was no secret that Joel was a complete and utter control freak. From his employees, he expected loyalty; from his friends, he expected honesty; from his club members, he expected integrity.
And from his lovers, he expected nothing less than absolute, unequivocal submission. If he wanted quiet, he expected silence; if he wanted still, he expected motionless. If he played with a submissive, he expected obedience, not a brat who topped from the bottom. That was the type of sub he detested. To him, they made a complete mockery of the very definition of a submissive. He knew many of his friends thrived on the challenge or got a kick out of the banter and that was fine with him; to each their own. But that was never going to do it for him, and he wasn't yet willing to settle for less.
And so, it had become easier to settle for nothing at all. More and more often, he lived vicariously through the club so he could shelve his disenchantment and hold on to the fantasy of his perfect partner.
Maybe Connor was right; maybe it was his own fault that he wasn't having any fun. Perhaps Joel's cravings really were excessive. The trouble was he didn't have a clue how to dial down his expectations and still feel satisfied. Hell, if he was going to settle, then he might as well just marry the sterile society wife that his father craved and give him the satisfaction of the two-point-four grandchildren and the heirs he was desperate for Joel to produce. God, that was a depressing thought. Almost as depressing as his friends' insistence that the ideal he was chasing didn't exist. But Joel still wasn't quite ready to let it go.
A sweet memory tickled the corners of his mind as he stopped to check on the scene taking place on the main stage. A curly haired brunette was strapped to the spanking bench while her Dom rained kisses from his crop over tanned skin already pinked from the flogger that had been discarded by his side. She wasn't quiet, and she wasn't curvy, and her hair was the wrong colour, but the placement of the cameras that lit up the big screens in the lavish setting and the equipment being used on this very same stage, provided enough similarity that Joel was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of his very last scene with the adorable Daisy. Bubbly, fun loving, delightful Daisy, who had her heart set on becoming a sculptor and who his father would have found completely unsuitable.
Perfect, compliant, obedient Daisy, who, at nineteen, had fulfilled desires that the young Joel hadn't realised were so important to him and who epitomised the qualities the older Joel found so rare and ephemeral.
Sadness washed over him and he fought to lock the memories of Daisy away. It hurt to think of her, to realise what he had lost. She had ruined him for almost every other woman but she also gave him hope, because she proved his ideal was out there.
Chapter Five
Desirae breezed into the sturdy, red brick, Universal Holdings building on Monday morning with an assurance she wasn't quite feeling. She hadn't heard from anyone over the course of the weekend and she couldn't quite decide whether that was a good thing or not.
On the one hand, she obviously still had a job, on the other, no one had called and mentioned her little outburst and that could be taken either way. She hadn't exactly been polite to John or behaved in her usually reserved manner, and that made her wonder if her reputation might have taken a hit, but as she made her way through the building, no one stopped her—nothing unusual there; she didn't welcome that kind of interaction—but neither had she detected any whispered remarks or speculative looks.
Still, as she reached the relative sanctuary of her outer office, she breathed a subtle sigh of relief. She'd come in deliberately early in an attempt to minimise any issues that may have spilled over from Friday's debacle, but so far it seemed that she had overestimated the necessity.
